


Accidentally-On-Purpose

by orphan_account



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Intrusion, F/M, Fluff, Old Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter has developed a new ritual following his post-Blip return to superhero-ing.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 75





	Accidentally-On-Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> //Just to preface-- this is NOT recent work. I found it in my docs from like a year and a half ago, and it was finished, so I figured I might as well post it since I've been gone for a bit. My writing has definitely grown a lot since, but it was a cute premise, so I hope you enjoy it!

As soon as he hears her, Peter knows it isn’t for his ears. 

This little ritual is something that Peter has been doing ever since he returned from Titan. After things calmed down after the reverse of “the Blip,” Spider-Man disappeared completely for a month or so. The online bloggers commented on it, but there was no need to justify it. Everyone needed a moment to catch their breath, and even the craziest conspiracy blogs knew that this extended to the Avengers as well. 

When he began patrolling again, everything felt almost the same-- except for one thing. It was small, and after a long night of combat and overseeing the city, sometimes it took every remaining ounce of Peter’s strength. But it was worth it, and so Peter did it every night: just for one moment, he dropped by to observe the houses of Ned and MJ, just to make sure that all was still well. 

Peter didn’t tell them; he doesn’t want them to worry, to see through him and realize exactly how much trauma is still simmering beneath the surface of his facade. But he doesn’t want to invade their privacy either, so when it began, he set himself a few rules. 

First, he won’t look through the windows, and he will only use his enhanced hearing to make sure they are there and that nothing is going on. As soon as he has done that, he will be off in the night before he can be tempted to do anything else. 

Second, there will be no snooping. No matter how interesting whatever they are doing sounds, Peter will be gone as soon as he has confirmed their wellbeing. Otherwise, he would be taking advantage of his abilities for personal reasons, and that wouldn’t be professional at all. 

Finally, they can never know. 

Peter is fairly sure that this last rule is already half broken. Ned still hasn’t caught on to the fact that Peter shows up every once in a while after he’s logged off the headset. Peter is careful, and Ned is slightly oblivious to his surroundings. He has no idea that sometimes Peter pauses across the street to listen to the rhythmic clicking of lego bricks. No, Ned isn’t the one who knows. 

That would be MJ. 

It started a few days after the ritual began. At first, Peter thought it might be an accident-- the thermos of herbal tea on the ledge of the apartment building opposite her window might have been left there on accident, so he didn’t touch it. Still… His enhanced senses picked up the scent of his favorite blend, the one MJ introduced him to, and it was hot to the touch. His suspicion was confirmed the next night, when he found a new thermos, this one containing the soup that she had made when he and Ned both got strep throat. It became part of the routine pretty quickly, and it’s Peter’s favorite part. He gets to take a moment to sit on the edge of the apartment building with something warm, and he can hear the quiet sound of the movements that are so very MJ: the scratching of a pen on paper, quiet music playing, the sound of shifting blankets and a turning page. 

But in all his imagining, Peter never dreamed that this part of his routine would cause him to break his other two rules. 

It starts innocently enough, the same way that every other night has. Tonight, there’s a thermos of warm tea and a slice of pumpkin bread on the ledge, the kind that MJ always makes when she’s stress baking. A hint of concern wriggles its way into Peter’s mind as he lifts the mask just enough that he can take a sip of the tea, which is still piping hot. As he chews the bread, he can hear the sound of her bedroom door creaking open, then shutting. For a moment, Peter is content to sit and sip the herbal mix, letting it soothe him and his senses. His eyes wander, finding their place on MJ’s window. Currently he was positioned poorly, so he could only see the lavender curtains and the desk lamp that is lighting them with a warm glow. He takes one last deep draft, finishing the tea just then and getting ready to leave. 

Then there is the sound of four consecutive clicks and a phone being plugged in, and it is followed by the most heavenly sound Peter had ever heard. 

As the musical intro begins, Peter wrestles with himself. He needs to go… There are  _ rules  _ for this, dammit, and if he doesn’t leave now he’s going to see something that isn’t meant for him. But also she’s humming, and he’s never heard her do that before. Her smooth alto caresses the notes to what sounds like a pop song with so much care and relief, like she’s sighing them. He can almost hear the sound of her back cracking as she exhales, and he knows what this is for. She’s relieving stress… Peter never had any idea she did that this way. 

The sound of Karen’s voice in Peter’s ear nearly causes him to jump out of his skin, and he the thermos tumbles out of his hands. As he hurriedly shoots a web to catch it, Peter struggles to process what she is saying over his buzzing thoughts. 

“Peter, your heart rate has jumped dramatically. Should I dial Tony Stark-” 

“N-no!” Peter exclaims in a strangled whisper, quickly setting down the thermos and the plate. He’ll wash them and leave them in MJ’s locker tomorrow. “I-um, I’m fine. But could you… Could you enhance the audio, please? I think I, erm, hear something.” 

Karen doesn’t say anything, but Peter feels like the AI is judging him as the sound of the humming and the track grow louder in his ears. 

He knows this song… A memory is dragged to the forefront of his mind of an after-school hangout during which he and Ned assembled a model of the Millenium Falcon while MJ read. She was DJing, and as soon as this song started playing, his eyebrows shot up. Ned promptly began to tease her for it, a song that was quite different from her normal, more folksy style. Peter can remember her mumbled, “Shut up, Leeds. At least my taste has changed since the third grade,” and then her hurry to skip it. But now it’s playing and she’s humming with it, and it sounds better than anything he’s ever heard before. 

Peter didn’t think he could be more shocked, but when she starts singing with it, he nearly knocks the dishes off the ledge again. 

Her voice is playful and smooth, the sound as soft as silk against his enhanced hearing. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming to be able to hear everything so deeply, but Peter closes his eyes now as he listens and knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wants to drink in every bit of her voice he can get-- the soft rasp, the breathy inhale at the breaks in the melody. 

_ “Baby, I just don’t get it… Do you enjoy getting hurt?”  _ At the end of the word, she drops off in a way that is soft and almost pouty. It’s enough to send blood rushing to his face, tingling over every inch of his skin.  _ “I know you smell the perfume, the makeup on his shirt.”  _

Peter hesitates one last moment before giving in. There is a soft crunch of gravel under his padded feet as Peter creeps along the edge of the building, crouching behind the ledge directly opposite her room. Through the swaths of gray cloth around the window, Peter peers into the room. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, but his breath is stolen away again when they do. 

He’s seen her room before, but never this well. It’s very MJ-- pale gray walls, a desk next to the door piled high with books and decathlon cards. There’s an old bean bag at the foot of a twin bed with a black metal frame, and there are books and hoodies scattered across the messy covers. The old shag carpet is difficult to see through a layer of discarded clothing and papers, and the dresser is piled high with old mugs with the strings of tea bags peeking out. The part that draws his eye is the array of polaroids on the mirror beside the door, pictures of them from decathlon and them hanging out. 

MJ is standing by the mirror with her phone on the dresser, hooked up to an old speaker. It takes Peter a moment to realize she is walking with a bounce in her step-- dancing by herself, moving more confidently than he has ever seen her. His heart is pounding so hard in his ears that it’s hard to hear her continue. 

_ “Cuz if I was your man…”  _ the track fills in the rest of the sentence, and she pauses with a little grin, tilting her head to let it do so. The movement sends a pang of warmth through his chest as he watches her.  _ “Never worry ‘bout what I’d do, cuz I’d be comin’ home… Every night, doin’ you right.”  _

His eyes follow her, taking in the relaxed posture she maintains as she moves. A small smile tugs at his lips as his eyes linger on her hair, loose and messy down her back, and the MIT hoodie that he let her borrow months ago and she never returned. She’s wearing pajama pants and slippers, and no makeup, and somehow he thinks he’s never seen her look so beautiful. 

_ “You should let me love you, let me be the one to give you everything you want and need…”  _ The little trill she ends the phrase with is enough to cause him to draw in a breath, and suddenly he feels like he is being watched even in the darkness. She is singing those words like she means them, like they’re important to her… Are they? 

Peter turns away, swallowing as his heart pounds in his chest. “Karen, you can turn it down now,” he murmurs. The audio becomes softer as Peter grips the dishes in one hand, leaping off the building. 

“Are you okay, Peter?” Karen asks as he begins to swing back towards his apartment complex. Peter doesn’t answer as the wind rushes through his ears, drowning out all thought. Finally, he gathers the composure he needs to spare a quick response. 

“Yeah. Just tired.” 

But Peter knows he won’t be sleeping much tonight. The images of MJ, so relaxed and playful and free, are going to play through his mind on loop. He feels guilty, but more than that, he dreads the thought that is going to be worming through his mind for weeks now. 

Part of Peter just needs to know if she would let him love her. 


End file.
